


Many Names in History, but None of Them Ours

by cinnamango



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Relationship, Biblical Reinterpretation, I don't actually know history but I do know aziraphale is gay, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Slow Burn, also Crowley is still Crawley at this point, aziraphale through queer history, basically just two idiots circling each other for thousands of years, does anyone even read these, eventually, idk - Freeform, idk how to tag, like so slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamango/pseuds/cinnamango
Summary: On Aziraphale being perceived as gay, and what got him to that point.





	Many Names in History, but None of Them Ours

He had been there, in Sodom, before the end.

There had been rumors about a city condemned, so full of sinners there was no hope for redemption. Rumors about a final test in which a mere ten righteous souls would be enough to save the rest from damnation. He tried, he really did. He spent months among these sinners looking for the best of the best, the ones with more than a single spark of goodness. To the angel’s surprise, the inhabitants of the doomed city seemed no different than any of the other cities in the area. No, they weren’t all perfect, but was that not the point of humanity? 

As the weeks went by and the day of impending judgement grew closer the angel wondered how it would happen. A trial? A test of mercy? He was not confident that the city was filled with the pure souls he knew some of his fellow agents of Heaven would be looking for, but neither was he sure that any single one of the inhabitants was irredeemable. Each soul he had encountered had been filled with nuance, capable of enormous good along with the capacity for evil. He could only hope the Lord would be kind when recognizing that. 

* * *

The angels arrived as beautiful men. While Aziraphale's body had been lithe and muscular in those days, his corporation had never quite seemed comfortable. These angels, however, fit their bodies so well it almost seemed unnatural. Looking at them, you knew that these bodies were created with the sole purpose of executing their inhabitant's wishes.

As the holy visitors were taken in by Lot, a newcomer to the city, their divine influence seemed to draw the men of the town like moths to a flame. They waited outside Lot’s house, begging, pleading to be met by the newcomers so that they might transfer some of their divinity unto themselves. Wanting to know the visitors in whatever ways possible.

Moths unaware of how close an errant wingtip was to catching fire. 

Lot refused. Instead, he offered up his young daughters, willing to sacrifice them to the yearning masses outside. The mob would not be swayed. Lot once again tried, “They are virgins,” he said, “you may do as you wish to them. Just do not bother these men with your wicked ways.”

The townspeople grew enraged at this. “Who is this foreigner, to tell us what to do in our own city? To offer his daughters to be raped when we only wish to meet with these visitors?” As the crowd advanced towards the door of the house Lot’s wife could be seen moving her two children away from the window. They had seen it all, these girls, watching as their father offered their bodies as sacrifice. Yet they would follow him anyway, as it was written. 

Aziraphale watched as the two beautiful angels brought blindness upon the men of Sodom. He heard as they decreed that the city was to be destroyed along with all those who inhabited it. He spoke of the horrors to come until his voice was raw, stopping anyone on the street who would listen. He did not, could not, stay to see who had listened. 

* * *

The smell of the burning city reached all the way to the plains where Aziraphale stood, watching, as the other angels spoke to Lot and his family for the last time. Corporations were different in those days, less permanent. Aziraphale did not know what would happen if he was seen in the area, but he had a feeling he would be expected to do his part in the destruction of the city. Better to go unseen, in any case. He heard as the angels told each member of the family not to turn around, and he followed until one of them inevitably did. 

Aziraphale regretted never knowing her name, Lot’s wife. She was the only one who had turned, the only one to see what had become of the city she had lived in. The only one to even try to record all that was lost. But, for her fatal flaw of curiosity, her humanity, she was turned to salt. But Aziraphale was there, holding her hand in those final moments, and so she was loved. 

Later, long after the three remaining figures of the family had faded into the background of the mountains, Aziraphale went back to Sodom. Picking his way through the rubble, he couldn’t help but scan the skies. But it hadn’t rained in days, and the clouds which had so recently been filled with fire promised no chance of a rainbow. He stopped for a moment, wondering how this destruction was really any different from the flood. Does it still count as keeping your promise if you only wipe out a few cities, instead of everyone? If the action is the same but not the scale? Aziraphale tried to believe it would all be okay, that he must have missed some reason these people deserved to die, tried to rationalize the way he felt with what he knew must be right. 

It did not bode well for an angel to have feelings outside of God’s plan. 

Something flickered in the corner of Aziraphale’s vision. He turned, surprised the city still held anything with the capacity for movement. The next moment he was on his back among the ashes. Staring up at the figure that had bowled him over, he caught a glimpse of golden eyes rimmed in red.

“Crawley?” 

“Why did you do it? There were kids here!” the demon hissed, pulling a blade from one of the folds in his loose robe. Aziraphale stared, stunned. It had been years since he and the demon had fought to the point of discorporation, and really, hadn’t the day already been bad enough?

Aziraphale struggled briefly before lying his head back with a soft exhale. Crawley always seemed to have more muscle than the average person with his build, and as it was the angel knew he had no hope of overpowering him with brute force alone. 

“It wasn’t me,” he choked out. Dust from the ruined city settled thickly on his tongue. 

The brief look of confusion in his attacker’s eyes was the only chance Aziraphale needed. With a surge of strength that shocked even himself, the angel rolled himself over, landing heavily on the demon. Wrestling the knife from his grasp, Aziraphale sat back, satisfied that Crawley could do no harm. Maybe this body did come in handy some days. 

Chests heaving, they stared at each other. Aziraphale found himself looking at the demon’s eyes once again, drawn in by their consistent golden colour. 

“Have you been crying?” he asked, shock apparent in his tone. He had never stopped to wonder whether demons had the ability, much less the will to do it over a few humans. 

It was the wrong question. 

With a snarl, Crawley jolted upwards. Aziraphale reached down to subdue him and… missed. Instead of a mostly human body, the demon between his legs had turned into a very angry looking snake. The angel once again reached out, but Crawley got to him first. Aziraphale felt the fangs enter the soft flesh of his forearm and thought about how the angels had said, after all, that Lot’s family would be the only ones to survive Sodom. 

In an instant, Crawley was back in his human form, panic widening his pupils.

“I didn’t mean...” He lifted a hand towards the angel before faltering, arm hanging listless in the space between them. “I wasn’t thinking and I just-” 

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale interrupted. “How long do I have?”

“With this corporation? A few minutes at most. I’m sorry.”

The angel leaned back, beginning to feel the venom working its way through his body. “Mind telling me what you were doing here?”

“I knew you were in the area, and I’d heard what Heaven was up to, so I thought maybe I could try to, I don’t know, make your job a bit harder.” 

“You tried to save them, didn’t you?”

Crawley hesitated, then looked to the ground. Aziraphale sighed. 

“And all this time and I thought you must have had something to do with starting this whole thing.”

“Me? I wouldn’t go this far, angel. Besides, you were the one hanging around the area.”

“I came to save them, not condemn,”

The demon paused. “So you mean, you really weren’t the one who…”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence, looking at the ruins that surrounded them, destruction Heaven had decided mankind brought upon itself. Aziraphale’s blood burned. He could feel his body rapidly failing. 

“Well. Until next time.”

“Until then. Sorry again about the whole…” Crowley gestured vaguely at Aziraphale’s pale body. 

With a nod, Aziraphale’s eyes slipped shut. Leaving his companion sitting alone, the angel left Sodom once and for all.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh I've never written a fic before! Hoping someone likes this. Thank you so much to everyone who proofread this and assured me that it isn't actually horrible. You know who you are (:
> 
> So, what's next? This came from a headcanon I wrote out at 2 am one night, so theoretically I have more planned. When will it be written? I cannot say. Will it be in a similar writing style at all? I cannot say. I'm not ready to give up yet, but I definitely want to see what happens with this before I commit to anything more. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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